


Draco Malfoy and the Duck of Destiny

by Zylphia_Jade



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Cute Teddy Lupin, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Good Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Raises Teddy Lupin, Humor, Leonard the Matchmaking Duck, Luna Lovegood & Draco Malfoy Friendship, M/M, Parent Harry Potter, well...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27661250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zylphia_Jade/pseuds/Zylphia_Jade
Summary: Draco Malfoy is an entirely respectable man. He has his very own flat in London, he fancies himself nothing less than brilliant at his job, and he is leading a delightfully unremarkable life largely consisting of paperwork and afternoon tea. When destiny arrives, Draco is pulled along with Harry Potter who is struggling to keep up with a wild child, Hermione Granger giving him bizarre and unsolicited advice, and an exceptionally rude duck who is bound and determined to destroy Draco's flat.Unremarkable life, indeed.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	Draco Malfoy and the Duck of Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't really ever thought of myself as very funny, but I was stuck at work today and came up with this idea in my head - I was cracking myself up. I have no idea how long it's going to be, or if it's any good, but it's been so fun that I can't help but continue. I'll try to keep posting it and see where it ends up. Let me know what you think!

It began, as all great tales do, with a duck.

It was a rather happy, sunny morning in mid-May, and Draco Malfoy blearily opened his eyes to the soft morning sun blinking through his curtains. He stretched languidly, dressed comfortably, and padded off to his office to get some work done. The whole morning was going rather spiffingly, actually. When he opened the door to his rather beautiful little study in his charming little flat, he expected to have a most productive day, indeed. Up until the moment that he opened the door, he even had a soft smile on his face, and even began to let out a contented sigh. Perhaps he would even invite Luna for tea.

He stopped short at the sight before him, mid-sigh. He would not be inviting Luna for tea.

It was as if a cheerful soundtrack had stopped short; it was like enjoying a nice walk before walking right into a wall; it was like finding a _duck_ on your desk. Draco Malfoy was struck with absolutely dread that he was about to be swept up in a great cosmic tale of adventure and destiny, because surely, the appearance of a duck on his desk at 6:52 in the morning was a universal declaration of some sort. No force any less potent than destiny itself, Draco reasoned to himself, could have this sense of cruel humor. Terror curled in the pit of his stomach, his face fell, he was so white that he must look positively _translucent_. What was worse was that, by some cruel karma, his greatest irrational fear had made its way into his very favorite room of his flat.

Interestingly enough, the duck seemed to possess very little awareness of fact that Draco’s apartment was not actually a pond, and even less that he was giving Draco a rather serious existential crisis. For goodness’ sake, it was 6:52 in the morning! On a Tuesday! Draco simply hadn’t the energy to cope with the appearance of a duck on a Tuesday.

He knew was being ridiculous, it was just a _bird_. A bird that lives in ponds. With all those terrible germs and all that muck. With little… little _fangs_ to catch its prey. And there it sat, the terrifying little creature, making a right mess of all his paperwork and looking very satisfied with itself. He stomped his foot and huffed in frustration, and the duck jumped into the air for a moment, running all over his beautiful oak desk and making an even bigger mess. Draco became quite resolute that he would not lose to a duck. Malfoys did not bow to ducks.

Draco was nothing if not well-mannered (and passive-aggression was, he thought, very effective), so he bid the duck a curt, but polite, “Good morning,” and sat down. Face to face with the duck on the center of his desk, he wasn’t altogether sure where to go next. It was, he admitted, an ill thought out plan. Where did he expect it to go? He glared at it anyway, and crossed his arms for good measure. He admitted that it was a very pretty duck, but he’d be damned if he’d let it know he thought so. Its emerald green head and patterned wings were quite charming. Although… The charming was quite often the most pernicious. (Draco did _not_ think it true, but perhaps he and the duck could get along quite nicely.)

The duck only stared back, and he had work to do.

“If you would be so kind,” he started, in his most proper voice, “budge up. I realize that you have no idea what this means, but I have a _job_ , and I need to be doing it.” The duck sat up straighter, shook its feathers, and haughtily turned its back to him without moving an inch. He stared at it with utter bafflement—it must not have heard him.

 _“Excuse me,_ ” Draco said, much more annoyed. “Kindly scoot, I have things to _do_.” He looked into the duck’s beady little black eyes, daring it to ignore him again.

It was just still a duck, which infuriated him even more. If there was to be a duck in his flat then it had better be a damn special, destiny-bearing duck. He scowled again for good measure

The duck glanced over its shoulder and turned away again. Draco was highly offended, and stood abruptly.

“Excuse you! Stop looking at me as if I’m a bother, I’m busy. You are being very rude!”

Two things happened in the moment after Draco yelled at the duck. Firstly, Draco realized that he was yelling at, or worse, attempting to reason with, a duck, and felt a wash shame. Second, the duck bristled and, in a great flurry of activity, flew right into Draco’s face.

“FOR HEAVEN’S _SAKE_!” Draco wailed, the duck flapping and putting its feet all over his face, and generally messing up his hair. It scratched and honked, and it was all Draco could do to attempt to put his arms up and protect himself.

(It should be noted that Draco Malfoy was an entirely respectable young man. He was twenty six years old. He had his own flat on the edge of London, bought with his own money. He held an entirely respectable job as an accountant for the Ministry, and liked to think himself rather gifted at it. He held his head high.)

(It should also be noted that Draco Malfoy was rather useless, and depended heavily on the assistance of his house elf, Pipsy.)

“PIPSY!” Draco screeched, “Help me Pipsky!”

With a soft pop, Pipsky appeared. “What is Master Draco nee- Oh dear!” She rushed to him, waving her hands about, “Shoo! Off of Master Draco’s face _this instant_!” Pipsy was chasing Draco frantically around the room, shooing the duck, while it incessantly _honk honked_ in his face. Draco was waving his own arms around, and being backed up against his desk rather helplessly. Oh, his carefully preserved dignity, how well it served him now. If his father heard about this… The duck continued to flap and honk and make a horrible mess of things, until it gave a final, frantic flap in Draco’s face and flew up on top of his antique armoire.

Draco collapsed dramatically onto the plush rug in the middle of his study. “Pipsy.”

Pipsy rushed over to him, “Oh Master Draco, why is there being a duck in your study? Is Master Draco in need of a cup of tea? What would Master Draco like done with the duck? Horrible creature. Pipsy will make tea.”

(In the months closely following the war, Draco had had a screaming match father and left for good. A few long days with a sore back later (Pansy had a horrid couch), Draco had a flat in London, and Pipsy arrived on his doorstep with all of Draco’s things neatly packed up. He had teared up —he knew there was a reason she was his favorite. It was incredibly moving at the time. He did dote on her. He showered her in all the latest elf fashion, and she made him tea when he’s had a fright. It was a good system, it worked for them.)

Draco glanced up at the duck and mumbled quietly, “I’d be better off transfiguring it into a pincushion, see how it likes being poked and scratched…”

“Master Draco!” She hit him upside the head. Pipsy was also quite wonderful at telling him he was being a prat.

“Pipsy, it’s quite alright, I do not need tea. I simply haven’t the energy to cope with an aggressive fowl before 7 in the morning—please, get _rid_ of it.”

“Yes sir, but Pipsy be making your guest wait at the door.”

“The door? I can take care of that, thank you.” With a mild grunt, Draco picked himself up off the floor and was quickly tidying his hair and clothes in the mirror. He suddenly regretted his comfortable clothes, but no matter. Several loud, wet plops came from behind him, in the direction of one incredibly rude animal, and Draco hadn’t the heart to look. Of course, of course it had to shite all over his day’s work. He rushed through his kitchen to the front door of his flat, threw it open, and began speaking with a suffering sigh.

“Good morning, I’m terribly sorry but I’m dealing with quite the incident this morning and I - Potter?” Draco’s words left him in a frenzied rush of air as he was looking up at the door, and yes, it was indeed Potter.

Draco fell silent at the sight of him on his doorstep, looking rather confused and concerned. His hair was messier than ever, Draco admonished to himself, and he still wore drab, pedestrian clothes. All of that aside, Potter was holding a small child.

“Um, I’m… Yes, sorry but I, uh—” Potter was apparently equally shocked to see Draco as Draco was to see him, and turned on his heel and starting to walk off down the hallway.

“Wh- Potter? Why in Merlin’s name are you here?” Draco attempted to keep his utter bewilderment out of his voice, but suspected that it snuck through anyhow.

“Well, I - hm. I’m looking for someone actually, but I doubt he’s, um, with… you.” Potter looked almost disturbed, and began walking away again. Draco wondered if he should feel mildly offended or simply intrigued. What a morning.

“HONK!”

Everyone stopped. Draco sighed deeply and began to call for Pipsy, but then the most bewildering thing happened. Potter turned and spoke to him.

“Is… Is there perhaps, a duck in your flat?”

“No, Potter, the honk was my rather insistent boyfriend. You see it’s this game we play…” Draco saw the little boy that Potter was holding and supposed he should shut up.

Potter visibly blanched. “I - uh - Well that might be Ted’s.”

“What?”

There was an insistent, “Honk _HONK!_ ”

The little boy’s face absolutely lit up. He pushed out of Potter’s arms, and in a moment he was running past Draco’s legs and toward his bedroom, exclaiming, “Leonard!!”

“Ted, no!” And Potter pushed past him as well. Draco stood in his doorway, baffled. ".... Leonard?" Hearing a crash and commotion, Draco groaned again and rushed after them.

He slid down the slippery hallway as he ran, cursing his soft socks and polished floors, and grabbed onto the doorframe of his study, which was a frightful mess. Harry bloody Potter was chasing a child who was chasing a duck who was in Draco Malfoy’s study, and it was not yet seven in the morning!

“Potter! Potter why in the world are you chasing that duck, you’d better —oh _move!_ ” An ornate lamp crashed and shattered on the ground, and Draco flailed to push the small child out of the way of the glass shards, who stumbled and then jumped up onto Draco’s desk after the duck.

“Leonard, come!” The child giggled, arms outstretched for the duck, and Potter finally grabged the child and the duck in one fell swoop. He looked at Malfoy and blanched, and then —the bastard—hopped over his prone form, near ran out the door, and slammed the front door of Draco’s flat behind him and his brood. The slam echoed in Draco’s flat, his mind reeling at what had just transpired.

Draco sat up, legs sprawled out, hair a mess, with a ruined office about him, sputtering and raising his hands to his face. When he flopped down again, his hand landed in a pile of feathers and warm, wet bird droppings.

“WHAT?!”

Draco sat on his blue chaise by the window in his living room, absolutely stunned. About an hour had gone by, and Draco had been silent for all of it. What a morning. Perhaps he would have Luna for tea tomorrow, she would find it all quite wonderful. Luna's optimism never failed to cheer Draco up. Pipsy appeared with a try of tea and fresh biscuits, and she and Draco passed the rest of the morning in a companionable, stunned silence, drinking tea and resolutely not looking anywhere near the study.

“Master Draco?”

“Hm.”

“Master Draco.” Draco had his eyes closed and was enjoying a particularly bracing sip of tea.

“Master Draco! You is being very rude to Pipsy!”

Draco sighed and opened his eyes. “Yes Pipsy, I am sorry. What is it?”

“I must insist Mr. Potter not be bringing the duck again, Pipsky is worried for Master Draco’s health.” Draco laughed sharply, and laughed harder when Pipsy looked at him in horror.

“Now Pipsy is just worried for Master Draco’s right mind! You will be choking on your tea!” He let out a final chuckle, smiled warmly at her, and wiped the tears from his eyes.

“I apologize Pipsy, I shall do my best not to worry you. I think I am rather worried for my sanity as well. I doubt that Potter will be bringing that horrid creature again.”

He _hoped_ Potter wouldn’t bring the duck again, and certainly not so early. Draco would have to spend the rest of the day getting his study back in order. Draco simply hadn’t the energy to cope with much other than tea after that debacle. It had already been quite an eventful Tuesday.


End file.
